


Plum

by Jamz24



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Bottom Even Bech Næsheim, Coming Out, Depression, Evak AU, Evak Smut, Evak are endgame, Even fantasises a LOT, Even is awkward, Excessive Pining, Femme Mikael, Femme!Even, Isak Is A Man Of Few Words, Isak is confident, Jumping narrative, LOTS of dysphoria, M/M, Masc!Isak, Mikadam smut, Mutta Is A Side PIece, Plumber!Isak, Porn with Feelings, Pretty nonbinary teacher Even, Shameless Smut, The last chapter is basically porn - enjoy!, Top Isak Valtersen, Unreliable Narrator, disruptive sexual fantasies, dom!isak, honestly, sub!even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:50:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamz24/pseuds/Jamz24
Summary: Femme!teacher!Even asks masculine! plumber!Isak to fix a broken shower on a scorching hot summer day...And if you think it sounds like the start of a porn film you're absolutely right! There's LOADS of smut but ... with LOTS of feelings xxx





	1. Awkward

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to write femme/ nonbinary Even and masc!Isak since forever, but never got round to it, SORRY. But here it is, bang on time to celebrate new photos today! 
> 
> I’m primarily using the female pronoun for Even in this although she doesn't really identify as a trans female, I would say she is more genderfluid, and trying to explore her femininity in a very binary world. Enjoyyyyyyy!

The first time Even sees the guy she can’t think of anything but dropping to her knees straight away and sucking him.

She’s barely entered the playground before she’s taking in the trim, worked-out body in football shirt and joggers, baseball hat skewed to the left and aviator shades partially masking a strong jaw befurred with curly beard. She can see the outline of the guy’s broad pecs underneath the Adidas logo, the firm slope of his shoulders, the strong forearms with hands thrust into bulging front pockets, and the pert prick of an erect nipple through the sheer sports fabric.

He’s leaning against the playground gate after all the parents have left, which would be ridiculously blatant behaviour if he were a paedophile, but all the same a solitary lurker at a school is something that needs to be checked out, and Even’s the one teacher left on duty.

“Can I help you?” she starts to – _wants to_ – say, before her tongue fails her. For a moment all she can imagine is dropping her forehead into that wide, smooth chest, and letting her lips travel down, down, down …

She’s thought about it – of course she’s _thought_ about it, her internet search history bears witness to that – but she’s never actually met a guy that she’s wanted to do _that_ to, in real life, as opposed to the fantasies of her own bed. There are good looking porn stars that she follows, and there’s cute men that glance at her from time to time at school drop-off or at the gym that make her cock prick up with excitement and her heart tumble in suppressed panic at the _maybe_ – but not like this, never like _this _before.

The guy glances up nonchalantly at her approach and shifts himself off the school gate as if he’s just letting a passer-by through. There’s a casual, centred masculinity about him that makes her breath catch at his movement, and as she nears him, she sees the image of herself reflected in the aviator shades and the small start he gives as he takes her in.

Even knows she’s striking looking – her femininity has been emerging for some time now, though in some ways she’s still undoubtedly masculine – tall, _very_ tall, with a long, slender boyish body and a low voice, counterbalanced with large blue eyes, chiselled cheeks and plump round lips that men often gaze at far too long to be innocent curiosity. Girls seem to love her feminine aspect – though her ex, Sonja, hadn’t – and she’s often told by her straight girl friends that she’s “prettier than most girls,” as if that’s supposed to be a compliment.

The man is standing watching her. His eyes, barely visible behind the mirrored lenses, are wandering all over her, piercingly taking in every aspect of her appearance, from her blond hair to the sheen of lip-gloss on her bottom lip, and there’s something in his frank, unashamed appraisal of her that makes her stomach absolutely flip-flop.

Even isn’t confident to wear dresses to work; usually, as today, she wears gender-neutral jeans, soft silky shirts, usually white, and a simple hairband to keep her shoulder-length blond hair back. Sometimes she’s brave enough to wear a small padded bra or a bit of eyeliner if she’s on a night out with Mikkkie, but today isn’t one of those days. Her friend Mikkkie, with her cute face and delicate, small-limbed body can pass easily as a girl, but Even’s height and deep voice mean she walks the tightrope between feminine and masculine more finely than many – and today this is just _her_, with little trappings either way to guide the observer as to her preferred gender or preferences.

“Hey,” says the guy finally, after the pause has stretched itself awkwardly to breaking point. “I’m here to pick up Griff and Sarah.”

The sound of his voice seems to crawl inside Even and settle right down in her stomach like a hibernating wild thing. She stands gaping at him, strangely weak, invaded and yet comforted, as if she’s had a huge meal on an empty stomach, or getting back into a warm bed after a chilly trip to the bathroom.

“You must be their teacher,” the man goes on. “You’re …?” and he stops, plainly considering how to proceed.

Even likes to use a mix of pronouns for herself – after all, it’s just _words_ – but recently she’s been using the feminine article more often, although she doesn’t ask anyone to do it at work; she’s always _Even_ to all intents and purposes to both kids and staff. But with the man in front of her, she feels suddenly adrift and nervous about identifying herself.

“Yes,” she says finally, resisting the urge to make her voice higher, Mikkkie-style. “I’m … I’m Even. I’m sorry, and you are –“

“I’m their uncle. I thought it was three-thirty pick up?”

“Oh,” says Even, taking a gasp of air – her lungs seem strangely short of breath. “Yes, usually it is, but today’s book club for 5G, so they’ll be another hour I’m afraid. Do you have authorisation from …”

For the life of her, she can’t remember who usually picks up Griff and Sarah because it isn’t _this_ man.

“Ah.” The man breaks into a sudden smile, white teeth glimmering through the beard, and Even can’t stop staring, barely resisting an urge to run her forefinger along them to test their sharpness. “That’s a relief. I thought I was late. Luca’s my half-sister, and she asked me to pick them up because she’s stuck at work. I ran all the way.”

Even looks down and can see a dark rim of sweat underneath his armpits and on the collar of his shirt around his clavicles. He smells of fresh heat and the wild woods, she can imagine him jogging through the flickering leaves, head thrust forwards and thighs going like pistons –

“You run much?” she asks and immediately kicks herself. _Run much_, Jesus, Even.

“Only when I’ve got places to be.” The man tilts his head and takes off his shades, leaving small indents on the bridge of his nose. He’s got almond-shaped, long-lashed green eyes that make Even feel as if she’s paddling in woodland water, and fluffy eyebrows that arch teasingly at her. “You’re a runner yourself? You look like you could be.”

Even groans inwardly at the blush that’s shooting hot up her neck like mercury rising up a temperature gauge, and casts around for something else to take her mind off her faltering composure. “I – well, it’s hot to be running. I’m sorry you’re going to have to wait.”

“No, no, I’ll – “ and the man looks around vaguely, “go and sit in a café or something, get a water. It’s too hot to wait outside.”

“Wait,” says Even before she can check herself. “Don’t go and pay for an expensive water, there’s a fountain inside.”

“Oh, well that’s –“ begins the man as Even blurts out loudly and far deeper than she’d like, “There’s air-con in the staff room, you’ll be more comfortable there.”

“ – kind,” finishes the man uncertainly, and they stand looking at each other a moment in silence.

“Uh, come this way,” says Even before she can come across any more random, and turns, walking across the playground rapidly, gritting her teeth in embarrassment.

The man follows her. She can’t be sure, behind the aviator shades that he’s replaced, but she swears she can feel his eyes on her ass every step she takes.

***

The cool of the staffroom is welcome, it makes Even break out into a fine spray of sweat herself, as if the heavy heat sitting over her skin has suddenly dissolved into water. She’s aware of managing to get a recyclable cup from the drinking fountain, pressing down the knob and avoiding spillage as she holds it out to the man. Their fingers brush slightly and Even flinches, trying not to let the sudden wash of desire flood across her face.

Even’s good in class, her self-composure unchallenged by even the most thoughtless or sneery of comments – _are you a girl now, Sir, should we call you Miss_ – so to feel herself unable to perform even the simplest of actions in front of _this_ guy is leaving her dismayed and groundless, like a ship navigating a busy shipping channel without markers.

“Do you want to sit down?” she whispers, picking up a stack of papers with reflex promptness and pretending to busy herself. “They’ll be a while yet.”

“Sure. Thanks.” The man throws himself into a low slung staff chair, thighs open and spread, and Even has to drag her eyes away and fight the wish to bury her face between them. “It’s very good of you,” he continues. “Don’t let me stop you doing anything – that you have to do.”

Even looks down at the stack of papers. “It’s fine, I’m meant to be working until six anyway.”

“Working until six?” The man lets out a low whistle. “I thought teachers got off as soon as the kids left.”

“No, we have to plan lessons and stuff,” says Even, her mind working overtime at the slight stress on _got off_ – had she imagined it? “How about you? Is it a problem for you to wait?”

The man chuckles. “No. I’m a plumber. Pick my own hours.”

“You’re a plumber?” says Even, her interest suddenly pricked. “Oh, that’s lucky. My – my shower hasn’t worked since yesterday, and I haven’t had time to – call anyone. Do you have a card, or – or anything?“

She’s rewarded by a smile. “I’m afraid I’ve got a couple of jobs on this evening, but –“ and at that moment the papers slip from Even’s nerveless fingers and knock his water all over his lap.

The water splashes down his leg and Even lunges forward to grab at the cup – a useless gesture since it’s already emptied its contents all over the man. “Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she groans as she fumbles to pick it up, and then her hand glides against what can only be a very firm male penis jutting along the inside of his thigh inside the loose material of his wet joggers.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – “ she gulps, pulling back, but the man reaches over, calmly takes her wrist and leads it gently but firmly back to the contour of his cock.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs, red tongue flickering over his bottom lip. “Don’t stop.”

He gently moves her wrist back and forth, her fingers curling involuntarily around the hard length underneath the fabric. Even crouches frozen, her heart pounding, weak with want and excitement, of the unknown, of the fear of not measuring up to fantasy –

“Like that, do you?” The man’s gazing at her, shades slipped to the side, mouth slack and beard damp. “Is that good?”

Even swallows with an effort, her eyes darkening as the man makes another few passes over his dick for her, then lets her wrist drop so she’s left there, fingers squeezing over his length involuntarily, her own breath coming hard and fast in the silence.

The man stands up, and with a quick flick yanks his joggers down over his ass, letting his cock jut over the waistband. “There we go, make it easier,” he mutters thickly, sliding down in the seat and letting his knees drop to the sides.

Even’s falling to her knees before she knows it, her mouth watering, her heart beating in her chest so loudly she swears he can hear it. She shuffles forward, hands on his thighs, taking it all in – the thick dark length, fringed with hair around his balls, the red tip nosing through the heavy foreskin, the blue protruding vein standing starkly out on its length.

“You’ve got one hell of a mouth on you,” whispers the man hoarsely, reaching his hands out. “Those lips you have there.”

Even bows her head and allows him to put one hand on the back of her neck and lead her down, propping his cock upright with the other to tap against her lower lip, closing her eyes as she opens her mouth; the unfamiliar yet so familiar smell that fills her nostrils, the blunt nub that glides over her tongue –

“Hold it like that,” the man mutters, taking her hand and curling it underneath his own. “That’s it. Nice and deep.”

Even’s lips have always been a powerful erotic area for her, but this is a level of extra she had never imagined. Hands combing through her hair, the balls of his thumbs massaging into her scalp, large handfuls of hair used to guide her movements, Even’s lost in sensation; one hand wrapped around his shaft while the other grabs instinctively at her own, conscious of nothing but the primal need to suck, the grunts and shifting of the man below her, the firm gripping of her hair at the roots, the sweet tenderness of the way he’s moving between her lips, insistent yet gentle, movements gathering force, making her moan with eagerness as he fills and stimulates her sensitive mouth and tongue as if she was made for his cock to use as he pleases, _come in me_, come in me _please_ –

“Are you all right?” The man’s sitting up watching her keenly, half-drunk and unspilled water-cup still balanced on his very dry and very clothed knee. “Do you feel faint?”

Even blinks back to reality; she’s kneeling rigidly in a sea of scattered papers in front of his kindly gaze.

“You looked like you were going to collapse for a moment. Heat getting to you?”

Even licks her lips and takes a deep breath, getting to her feet, trying to mask the outline of her own excitement with her hastily-gathered documents.

“You – you said you were a plumber?”

***

“_And so,_ he’s coming over tonight to fix my shower. And I don’t know – I don’t know how – “

Even breaks off, gazing at the figure of Mikkkie on her propped-up phone screen, who appears to be choosing to use her FaceTime image to adjust her makeup. “Are you even _listening_?”

“_Of course_ I’m listening!” says Mikkkie crossly. “Anything involving a hot plumber guy, I’m all ears.”

Mikkkie’s getting ready for a date; she’s kohled her eyes and is applying a coat of lipstick in a crimson shade that looks incredible against her skin. She’s wearing a green dress that is unabashedly fitted, and for a moment Even envies her friend; the way she wears her femininity so lightly and is yet so confident in it.

“Okay. Well, I – I don’t know how to ask him out without it being – being kind of awkward.”

“Even, you are _always_ awkward,” says Mikkkie but her tone is less unkind than her words. “But you’re _gorgeously _awkward. Just ask him. "Are you free for a drink tomorrow night?" I mean, it’s a simple yes/no answer structure. Leaves no room for doubt. And remember, the more people you ask, the easier it gets.” Mikkkie snaps her fingers. “I know you’re always waiting for _the one_, Even, but there’s no Mr Right out there, really. There’s only Mr. Right. Now.”

There’s a rap on the door and Even jerks around. “Oh shit, Mikkkie, I think – I think he’s here, oh God, he’s so _early_ –“

“Go for it,” winks Mikkkie, pressing her lips to the screen for a rosy kiss. “And remember, Even, you’re beautiful.”

*** 

**NEXT CHAPTER WILL FOLLOW SOON BUT LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT!! COMMENTS ARE MY FLEA FOOD**


	2. Hot Plumber Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even needs a professional to fix her shower and give her a good strong pump. Will she summon her courage up to ask out the hot plumber guy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fastest I've ever updated outside of the Big Bangs! Thank you everyone for your lovely supportive comments - hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Drrriinnnng! Drrriinnnng! Drriinnnnng!

The sound of the buzzer shrills through the hallway, and Even stares about her in dismay. Her apartment is scorching in the evening heat, and she hasn’t had time to change. In dismay she takes in her appearance in the hall mirror; she’s wearing only a long, pale blue silky shirt that stretches down over her thighs that looks almost but not quite like a slip, with bare legs, bare feet and loose hair.

“_Fuck fuck fuck_,” she hisses, chasing around the apartment. Damn, she looks so dishevelled, she’d planned to dress up a bit, see if she can pique the plumber’s interest - she’d planned to shave her legs, wash her hair and even paint her toenails in readiness, but all those plans have been chucked out of the window with the insistent pressing of the intercom and the outline of a bearded figure gazing expectantly up at her on the fuzzy screen next to the door.

In desperation she catches up her cosmetic bag, seizes the first piece of makeup she can find, and dashes a quick slick of gloss over her lips. It’s the dark plum-flavoured one with a slight purple stain that makes her plump lips look pumped up and sinfully needy, wide and cushioned and wanting, outlined against her pale golden skin in the sticky heat like a fruit waiting to be sucked.

It’ll have to do.

With a deep breath, she opens the door.

“Sorry I’m early,” smiles the plumber with his assured casualness, leaning in the doorway, low-slung toolbelt strapped around his waist. “Last job got cancelled so I thought I’d swing by sooner.”

“It’s – it’s fine,” says Even, wishing she’d at least brushed her hair – but no matter, he’s _here_, one booted foot inside her doorway, and again she feels the same weakness flooding through her, the urge to fall on her knees in front of him and have him take her head and do with it what he will –

“Um … so where …?” the man is beginning in the sudden pause, and Even mentally slaps herself. She can’t understand the effect this guy has on her; when she was masc presenting she’d always had so much _confidence_, and sometimes it feels that in embracing her femininity all that toxic brashness has started to trickle away.

“Yes, it’s – it’s in here,” she manages to say, walking back awkwardly towards the bathroom and catching her elbow on the letter-table. “Through there. It was working yesterday, but today I couldn’t even get a few drops out of it.”

“Mmm,” says the man, standing in the coolness of the shower tiles, spinning the silver knob expertly. “It’s a little tight, might be some backed-up pressure at the pump.”

Even can’t take her eyes off his hands – they’re not big, but beautifully proportioned and covered with smooth bronzed skin up to his forearms, with a few scribbled digits in biro near the wrist. She hopes it isn’t some other girl whose number he’s obtained earlier, and quickly chokes the thought away, _shut up_ Even, calm the _fuck _down, _now_.

“Looks like it’s stopped working altogether,” says the man, taking a spanner out of his toolbelt. “You need a good strong pump in this hot weather.”

Even swallows. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

The man grins as he kneels down on the bathroom floor. “Let me turn the ballcocks off first.”

She gazes at him as his head disappears underneath the boxed-in sink, admiring the way the silky sports shirt rides up his back and his joggers strain over his hips, exposing a short length of crack at the top of his firm tanned ass. Even resists the urge to slide her finger down his knobbled spine and trace the cleft between his buttocks gently, watching hungrily instead as he grapples with the pipes, his cheeks twisting first one way then the other, his soft grunts of exertion as he applies all his strength to the stiffened-up plumbing. Even imagines how he would look as he holds her down underneath him, his bottom tensing and grinding as he braces himself above her, bearing down onto her with all his weight …

Her cock is dripping like the pipe and a damp patch is announcing itself on the front of her shirt when the man finally turns off the water at source and straightens up, taking off his baseball cap _at last_. Underneath his hair is dark blond, as curly as his beard, wet curling tendrils at his temples and a silvery sheen of sweat covers his forehead. Even wants to lean over and bury her nose in the dark roots of his hair.

“Okay. It’ll take about an hour. If you were a regular client that I were servicing, I’d spin it out to two, but I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“Thanks,” breathes Even, almost unable to think at the term _regular client _and_ servicing_. “Would you – would you like a tea?”

“Sure. Milk and two sugars.”

Even escapes to put the kettle on and find a tight pair of knickers, while the man spends most of the next half an hour on his knees, expertly disconnecting, cleaning and reconnecting the pump, occasionally remembering to hitch up the jogging pants that keep sliding down his hips. Even is sorry every time he does this; from the hall where she’s hovering she has a good view of his straining ass when he bends down, and the slowly-lengthening amount of crack between his cheeks.

When she comes back to the bathroom after another trip to the kitchen however, she’s suddenly confronted by a long length of shining, bare back, smelling of fresh sweat. An earthy, sandy aroma of tan and suncream fills her nostrils.

“Oh sorry!” The man catches up his wadded-up sports shirt repentantly. “It was so hot in here, I was trying to keep my clothes fresh for later.”

As he turns to face her, she can see small tufts of hair underneath his arms and a trickle of sweat coursing down between his firm pecs, nipples hard and pink and erect like beads between a fine brush of blond chest wire. He’s got a short barbell-piercing through his left nipple which makes her swallow in anticipation. His stomach is more darkly furred, with a distinct trail disappearing past his belly-button and down underneath his sagging joggers where Even’s gaze is drawn and held, as if by an invisible thread.

“No, no it’s fine, carry on,” gabbles Even as soon as she is able. “If – if you’re too hot, you could – could always use my shower to wet yourself up – I mean, cool off?”

The man raises one fluffy eyebrow and Even bites her lip in mortification, her curled-up shaft pressed under the lace trim of her knickers and throbbing against her hip-bone as if it scents the man’s proximity.

She’s going to have to change her pants _again._

The plumber grins.

“Yeah. I’d like to do that.”

***

The man takes his time in her shower; Even can see the outline of his sloping shoulders as she peeks through the hazed-up glass door, the stripe of frosted modesty-panel unfortunately barring his ass from her view, though she can see his strong thick legs planted on the rippled floor beneath and the water coursing down and over his hairy calves.

She watches as he soaps his hair into a lather, eyes shut, head thrown back and his curls a mess of bubbles, turning his face this way and that to sluice himself down and rinse out his beard. She swallows as she watches his capable hands rubbing underneath his armpits and round and round over his nipples and back and forth over his flexed, toned biceps –

Then he shakes his head like a dog, opens his eyes, looks down, squirts a liberal palmful of shower gel into his hand and firmly soaps up what can only be his cock and balls with a thick, squelching sound.

Even’s eyes narrow and her breath escapes her in a long deceleration, as he cleans himself thoroughly, rubbing firmly and precisely up and down with short hard strokes until his head drops back and his mouth falls open with a low groan –

She clings onto the doorway, almost overcome, grateful only for the hiss of the water that masks her stifled sighs. She’s touching herself covertly, pressing three fingers against the nub of her curled-up cock like a clit, rubbing against herself needily and biting back the cries that threaten to tumble from her glossy lips. She’s sweating too; the inside of her legs is hot and wet, and she has to hold herself up by the lintel as her sharp excitement at the sight of the man – _this man_ – naked and wet in her shower, increases and makes her face screw up against the mounting friction as if in pain and her teeth bare behind her stretched, darkened lips –

“Hey,” the man has drawn back the shower door and is looking out at her, wet curled hair plastered to his skull, one hand cradling his blunt, unspent cock. “Want to help me out with this?”

The rods of cool water soak Even’s shirt and mould it to her body as she steps hesitantly into the shower and lets the man take her hand, turn it palm-upwards and place his thick, soapy penis in her hands. She curls her hand around it and squeezes, mouth watering, gliding her hand up and down, the other travelling up to cradle his balls and tug on them gently, the way she likes it, the way she used to like it – 

“Uhhh. Fuck yes. That’s right.” The man leans back against the cool shower tiles, his erect cock throbbing in Even’s bubbly palms, his long-lashed eyes rolling back in his head and closing briefly as his face spasms in bliss.

“Jesus. So good. Get your daddy off, baby girl, that’s it. Fucking hell. Yes. Faster now, harder, harder – “

Even pumps him obediently in time to his terse, muttered commands, almost sobbing with need herself, her own cock frotting painfully against her drenched, clinging panties. Wet strands of sodden blond hair are stretched over her cheek and stuck to her bottom lip as the air between them fills with bouncing spray, droplets and the scent of something else –

The man suddenly jerks up with a warning, inarticulate grunt, takes a firm handful of her dripping hair and pushes her downwards. “On your face,” he mutters as her bare knees hit the grooves of the shower floor, pulling her chin up with two firm fingers to angle his target as his bulging dick spanks against her cheek, squirting its mess dirtily and inelegantly over her nose and mouth. She coughs and splutters, half choked with sperm and spray, feeling his throbbing glans sliding up and down her cheek, rubbing stickily deep into her skin, sliding past her closed eyes and decorating her cheekbones and forehead with the last of its spattering beads –

“Hello? Could I have a towel?” The man has opened the shower door a crack and is waving through it, wafts of steam obscuring the bathroom. “Are you there?”

Even shudders to a halt, dragging her wet fingers away from her own throbbing groin and pulling her shirt hastily back into position.

“Um, yes,” she stammers out, grabbing at the nearest fluffy white bath towel. “Here you go.”

The man reaches out his arm, toned shoulder emerging from the misted-up door. Their fingers glide wetly and momentarily connect.

“Thanks,” floats back from behind the clouds of steam.

Even suddenly has to change her knickers again.

***

“Any more trouble, let me know,” says the plumber as he puts on his cap, wraps around his tool belt and makes for the door. “But that should be enough to keep you going for this summer at least.”

“Wait, do you have a card, or a twitter account?” Even stutters awkwardly, she can’t really be asking Griff and Sarah for their uncle’s contact details. “How do I get hold of you, if, if - ?”

“Ah, I don’t do that stuff. People tend to know me round here. Here’s my number.” The man produces a chewed-up biro out of his toolbelt and takes her slim wrist, holding it firmly as he writes an eastern Oslo number on her flesh, casually, as if she’s just a bit of paper he’s picked up. She trembles like a bird underneath his touch, her pulse skipping and bounding like a wild filly, but he writes on, unheeding, critically underlining the digits with a long sweeping line and PLUMBER! (smiley) written underneath in capitals as he finishes.

“Uh, thanks,” she whispers, pulling back from where the warmth of his skin has burned hers like the sun and clasping her hands together. Her stomach suddenly drops. The number he had written on his own wrist is still just about visible, but the implications hit her hard – a fresh number, evidently exchanged that morning, _and _he’d wanted to use her shower, keep his shirt fresh for tonight –

“Are you going on a date tonight?” she blurts out fearfully, suddenly overcome with jealousy. God, she hates her voice, it’s so deep and abrupt sometimes. “Are you seeing someone?”

The man regards her in calm surprise at her evident anxiety.

“I wouldn’t call it a date, but who knows if I’ll get lucky –“ he lets his teasing words trail off as he takes in her wide blue eyes, her flushed cheeks and her quivering bottom lip. “Are you – are you all right?”

“Will you go on a date with me?” stumbles out Even before she can think twice. “A drink, tomorrow night, Friday?”

The plumber gazes at her in surprise, his stare travelling hotly over her face, taking his time before he answers curiously, “What are you saying? _You’re_ asking me out?”

“No. Yes. Why not?” stutters Even, shame flooding up her neck, god she was _no good_ at this, why had she even taken Mikkkie’s advice, she should _absolutely never_ –

He’s grinning at her now, white teeth gleaming through curly beard and as he slides those mirrored shades back over his eyes like a visor, the sight of his teasing smile and the reflection of her strained face in the lenses makes her pride rear up and strike out.

“What? What are you laughing at? Is it funny? That I’m asking you out?”

She glares at him, cheeks flushed. He’s _jeering_ at her, he’s implying she’s not good enough, and the worst of it is, she _isn’t_, not with all the lip gloss and padded bras in the world she won’t be his thing, not _that_ firm, natural masculinity. Men like him want girls like Mikkkie; girls who can _pass_ and fuck like rabbits, girls who are small and delicate not girls who tower over them like an awkward tree, girls whose hair is long and whose makeup looks natural, girls who don’t have a voice deeper than their dates, girls who _fit_. Her dysphoria hits her broadside like a truck and tears start to her eyes; she can’t _do_ this, she absolutely can’t –

“No, I just wanted to make you say it again,” says the plumber with a smirk. “I like watching those pretty lips move. Especially when they’re painted up like that.”

He leans forward, glides the ball of his thumb over her bottom lip where a drip of purple gloss has snaked down from the corner of her mouth and onto her chin. Mesmerised, she watches as he raises his thumb to his own lips and tastes it with his tongue.

“Sweet,” he murmurs as he licks and swallows. “Just like you. Okay, I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow. Wear something pink, will you?”

And with a wink, before Even can so much as move, he’s gone.

***

“But what if he’s a fuckboy?” says Even in despair. “He had a number written on the back of his hand, and then he wrote mine on _his_, so this is obviously something he does _a lot_ …”

“So what if Hot Plumber Guy is a fuckboy?!” Mikkkie rolls her eyes and drops her candy-striped straw deep between her pretty lips, sucking her strawberry daquiri firmly and hollowing her cheeks. “You got something against fuckboys?”

Mikkkie’s insisted on making a jug of cocktails while they wait and watch the clock on Friday night to calm Even’s increasing nerves; half past five, twenty to five, quarter to – 

“It doesn’t _matter_ if he’s not perfect, Even, but you have to start dating _somewhere_, and at least fuckboys know what they’re doing in bed. The trouble is with you, you put people on a pedestal, and they have to be some kind of _idol _for you to get interested, and then you’re too frightened even to _approach_ them …”

Even takes a deep breath and breathes out to try to soothe her pounding heart, knowing every word Mikkkie says is true. It’s taken her forever to shave her legs and paint her toenails, and put on a rose-coloured silk shirt that her friend picked out for her, over black slender calf-length jeans and gold sandals with the gentlest of heels. It’s the most femme that she has ever dared go in public, without Mikkkie’s company, and her anxiety is mounting with every passing minute.

“From all accounts, it sounds like he’s into you. He’s even telling you what to wear! _Wear something pink._ Oh my god, what a dom,” Mikkkie fans herself excitedly. “Maybe he’ll order your food for you as well.”

“I don’t think I can eat a thing,” whispers Even, looking down at her trembling knees awkwardly. Mikkkie had tried to get her into a dress while shopping earlier but Even resisted so strongly Mikkkie relented and bought her a thigh-skimming white slip for indoor use only.

“You’ll be grateful when you bring him home and have something more comfortable to slip on,” she had said sternly, hanging it on the back of Even’s bedroom door. 

Even’s stomach turns to jelly at the sound of the buzzer. “He’s here. Oh God, Mikkk, I don’t think I can –“

“Of course you can, beautiful. Look at you! You’re sumptuous!” Mikkkie strokes Even’s face, running her finger over Even’s cheekbones which she’s highlighted with a hint of blush, and eyes that she’s carefully shaded and coloured in accents of blue and green. She’s done a lot more as well, worked on a light but natural foundation that makes Even’s skin absolutely glow, outlined her lips in a soft pink liquid gloss and little sweeps of golden highlighter that, with her shoulder-length bob of blond hair, gives her face a gentle androgynous luminosity like a Da Vinci angel.

“What’s his name, by the way?” asks Mikkkie, quickly adjusting Even’s hair like a make-up artist on set as she walks to the door to press the intercom. “I don’t want to be referring to _Hot Plumber Guy_ by accident.”

Even stands shocked. “Oh God, Mikkkie. I don’t think – I don’t know – “

She suddenly realises she never asked the man’s _name_; Griff and Sarah’s uncle, Hot Plumber Guy and _the man_ is all she’s been able to think about in his presence, and she strikes her forehead in horror.

“We never – he might have said, but the thing is, I can’t think around him, I can’t remember –“

Mikkkie’s eyes pop with incredulous laughter and Even springs on the defensive. “I can’t really ask his name _now_, it’ll look just too weird!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this covered,” hisses Mikkkie as they hear steps in the corridor. “Leave it to me. It’ll be all right. Now, ssshhhh!”

The plumber stands in the doorway, his legs apart, thumbs hooked casually into his belt, and Even’s breathing kicks up a notch. He’s wearing a simple blue denim long-sleeved shirt and jeans, and he’s swapped his work boots for dress-up shoes while a brown leather belt encircles his waist with a buckle that could be straight out of a cowboy rodeo. His hair is close-curled to his scalp, his beard is trimmed and he smells of clean laundry and aftershave in a powerful, masculine scent.

Even is so flustered that she can’t meet his eyes so she gazes at his buckle, embossed with some kind of Western design that she wants to see up close. All she can think about is kneeling down and slowly, slowly unbuckling him, uncoiling his belt and slowly unbuttoning his fly, metal stud by metal stud –

The plumber is gazing at her in the long silence. Without his mirrored shades, his green eyes seem even more intense than usual.

“You look amazing,” he says softly, but in a tone so penetrating and appreciative that it covers Even like a warm hug.

Even is still standing gawping at him, when there’s a gentle cough from behind her.

“Well hello there!” Mikkkie is waving at the plumber from the sofa, her highcrossed legs gleaming in satin nylons. She beams up at him, pretty face breaking into a winning smile.

“I’m Even’s friend Mikkkie. And you’re …?” Mikkkie lets her voice trail off seductively, and Even feels a horrible twist of jealousy in her stomach at her friend’s effortless femininity.

But the plumber isn’t even looking at Mikkkie, his gaze is fixed on Even, travelling fascinated up and down her long slender throat as if she’s a rare object that he’s admiring in a gallery, or an exotic fruit that he can’t quite work out how to taste. He catches her nervous stare and the white teeth appear in the shadow of his beard at her awkward flush.

“I’m Isak,” he says. “Shall we go?”

*** 

**WHOOP! Well done Even, let's see where this ride takes you! Let me know what you thought - next chapter following SOON!**


	3. Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even goes on a date with Hot Plumber Guy.
> 
> Feat. angst! And, smut. And more angst! And ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with this lil verse! Your support and comments are so welcome - in this chapter we get a taste of actual Evak and a massive scoop of Mikadam smut! Hopefully the next chapter will follow this weekend! Whoop!

If Even had thought she’d felt awkward before, it’s nothing compared to a whole evening in Hot Plumber Guy – _Isak’s_ – company.

It’s not that Isak is _bad_ company – in fact he’s grounded and easy, casually chatting about his day and the nightmare client with a bad-tempered boiler earlier with the same calm confidence that had drawn her to him so strongly. He also volunteers as a football coach at the local community centre, and although Even has no interest in football, as a teacher with students of her own, they move onto common ground fairly quickly. But soon Even finds herself talking too much, desperately seizing on conversational topics that sound empty and bare even to her, until she forces herself to stop.

Luckily, silences with him, when they happen to fall, are strangely comforting, as if they don’t need to fill the intervening space between them with _words_.

But nevertheless, Even feels so embarrassed and – _exposed_ – that she can’t bear it.

She hates her hands; they’re large and square and undoubtedly mannish, and even the French manicure that Mikkkie had insisted on giving her earlier can’t make them any more feminine. She can sense the plumber glancing at them from time to time and it drains her confidence like a sump; she tries to keep at least one of them below the table at all times, sometimes even sitting on it to stop herself fidgeting with nerves.

Isak confidently orders for both of them – “it’s a steak restaurant, I know the best cuts,” – and Even can’t find it in her to disagree, as she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to eat anything again. They drink Merlot which is a mistake in the hot weather as it heats Even’s already raging temperature and causes a pink flush to sit heavily in patches over her neck and breastbone. The silky pink shirt gets dark red under her armpits and her foundation starts to drip in the heat of the restaurant. As dessert drags to a close, she realises she’s exhausted all her conversational pitches and for the first time she finds herself desperately wishing for the date to be _over_.

She grabs her phone and types out a quick pre-arranged message to Mikkkie – _Help – Break me out – We’re in Churrasco Grande_ – and makes an excuse to escape to the bathroom, where she finds herself staring at her melting expression in the mirror with increasing despair.

The makeup that Mikkkie has so carefully applied sits in sweaty patches on her damp skin, and her hair has become stringy and dank in the heat. Her eyes still look good however – Mikkkie’s an expert with waterproof eyeshadow – and though her lip gloss is long gone, her lips are still soft and plump from endless nervous biting.

She groans at her reflection and covers her face with her large hands. Is this all her femininity could ever be, just a succession of artificial paint and powders, tribal dress codes and colours, padded bras and longer hair? If so, Even wasn’t feminine, wasn’t feminine _at all_, and everything about her could only ever be illusion.

“What’s happening! Is he a creep?” Mikkkie has slunk into the toilets after her, concerned. “Are you all right?”

Even shakes her head and turns to face her friend. “It’s not that, Mik, it’s just – I feel so – Can we go home? Say I’m not well?”

“Did he do something bad?” Mikkkie has taken out her makeup brush and is dabbing professionally at Even’s skin. Even pulls away. “What is it? What’s up?”

“No – it’s – it’s me, I can’t be _myself_ in front of him, but I don’t know who _I _am either, Mik, I’m so confused – ”

“Well I think you need to give Hot Plumber Guy a chance,” returns MIkkkie, briskly, holding Even’s chin with a stern forefinger and evening out her foundation with quick, efficient strokes. “He’s paying the bill out front and he doesn’t seem in any hurry to shoot off. You need to get to _know_ him, Even, allow yourself a little fun, even if he’s not _The One_.”

“Please,” groans Even. “Can’t we just go home?”

“Oh no, we’re not going home already!” chirrups Mikkkie, tossing her hair. “I rang the Briskeby squad and they’re meeting us at the club later. You bring your guy and we’ll double-date. We’re going out to dance, baby!”

***

Isak doesn’t appear to be a natural dancer which gives Even some hope; the club is a loud salsa place full of swinging hips and high heels, black shirts and patent-leather shoes, and as usual she feels hopelessly out of place. She’s taller than everyone and no man would ever ask her to dance here, but it’s a favourite of Mikkkie’s and the Briskeby crew – Elias, Adam, Yousef and Mutta – and no sooner have they arrived than they’re plunged into the sweaty, brightly-coloured crowd, and swallowed up in the music.

_I love it when you call me señorita_

_I wish I could pretend I didn't need ya_

_But every touch is ooh la la la_

_It's true, la la la_

_Ooh, I should be running_

_Ooh, you keep me coming for you – _

Mikkkie’s dancing excitedly and all eyes are on her, hair flying around her shoulders and slender legs twirling in the shortest of crimson dresses that slides round her hips like water, skilfully switching from salsa to samba, merengue to bachata.

“I’ll get your drink. Margaritas are best in a place like this.” Isak disappears to the bar and Even’s left loitering uncertainly on the outside of the dancefloor, uncomfortably prominent with her height and appearance in a sea of petite Latinas. Nobody’s really paying her any attention, adverse or otherwise, but she feels horribly on show nonetheless.

“Come on, baby! When in salsa, you dance salsa!” Mikkkie’s prancing up to her as the music changes into a swirling pumping beat, a Latin-inspired pop song about a girl who’s had her heart broken by a bad boy, and what the bad boy’s doing to win her back. “Even! On the dance floor, now!”

Even finds herself suddenly enveloped in the crowd with their sweat smells and scents of perfume and aftershave, cigarette smoke and rancid beer as she’s pulled into the thick of it. Mikkkie drops her hand, tosses her hair provocatively, and the next moment she’s grinding her hips up against Even daringly, and they’re dancing girl-on-girl in a centre of admiring Briskeby lads.

It’s nothing she and Even haven’t done before, in fact it’s a guaranteed way to get Mikkkie to score for the night, but in the circumstances Even feels even more awkward than usual, and the attention makes her red in the face. To a chorus of whoops and cheers, Mikkkie pushes her small body up against Even and undulates seductively, sticking her tongue out coquettishly at the leering comments. One of the hairier Briskeby lads – Mutta, maybe – lets out an appreciative whistle and sashays up to them, shaggy hair sweat-streaked down to his shoulders, black shirt open to his chest, gold chain gleaming.

“Looking good out there, girls!” he says, pulling Even’s hand towards him, his other one sliding around to hold her bottom close. “Want a dance?”

Even gulps and glances around; Mikkkie has already been claimed by Adam, another of the Briskeby crew, and they’re working their hips together quickly in a fast _paso doble_. Over Adam’s shoulder, Mikkkie catches her eye and gives her a thumbs up, just as Mutta hoists Even close, thigh pressed between hers, and starts to lead.

“But – but Mik, I’m meant to be here with Isak,” hisses Even, craning away from Mutta’s enveloping arms as her friend dances past.

“Trust me! Give him some competition!” Mikkkie winks and aims an air kiss at her as she’s twirled away by Adam, and unwillingly Even turns to face Mutta. He’s tall, mercifully, practically the same size as her, but he’s drunk a lot, she can tell. As she puts her hand on his shoulder she can feel the sweat wet through his shirt, and his thumping heart beats against her chest as he bumps his pelvis against hers with a slack-jawed, hazy-eyed stare.

“Wow, you’re looking sweet today,” he whispers in her ear as she turns her face away. He lets his head sink onto her shoulder, sweaty hand still gripping hers, and lets his other hand twist and turn her bottom to his satisfaction as their hips meet and connect, thrusting and grinding first one way then the other. It’s probably the first time she’s ever danced like this – with a guy, in public – but it’s the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong guy –

Even suddenly sees the plumber standing behind Mutta’s shaggy form and freezes.

“Hey,” says Isak evenly. “Here’s your drink.”

“Sorry mate, she’s taken.” Mutta jerks himself out of his horny grinding haze and tries to spin Even away but the plumber steps in front of him. He’s not as big as Mutta but he has a solidity about him that brooks no argument.

“I think you’ll find she’s with me,” he says, unperturbed, slipping an arm around Even’s waist, and then, ignoring the other man completely, “I’ve got us a table in the corner, sweetheart.”

“Hang on! Even! Wait!” shouts Mutta, frantically re-arranging his pocket, but Even has taken the plumber’s hand at his firm insistence and is scurrying after him off the crowded dancefloor, mouthing embarrassed apologies at Mutta. She feels mortified – though what she has to apologise for she isn’t sure – but as they reach the table Isak’s smiling at her with _that_ look on his face which calms her slightly.

“Not a keen dancer, then?” He pulls out Even’s chair for her to sit down.

“No,” breathes Even, _this is all a horrible mistake, why did we ever come here_. “It was Mikkkie’s idea, she likes dancing.”

“She’s quite a dancer, your friend,” agrees the plumber, glancing over to the throng. Now the music has slowed to a sexy tango, and Mikkkie’s locked in Adam’s arms, pressed close against his chest, thighs moving languidly in sync.

“Yes,” Even admits unwillingly, a sharp knife of jealousy ripping through her stomach at Isak's observation. “She’s – very popular here.”

“I wouldn’t know. Not my type.” The man holds up her drink, frosted mint prickling around the rim, ice cubes clinking. “Not when you’re next to her.”

Even feels a warm blush flow through her face, down through her stomach and all the way down to between her legs.

“I just – this isn’t my kind of place,” she gulps.

“Nor mine. But you’re here, which makes it my kind of place.” He’s still holding out her drink and unwillingly she takes it.

“I’m not sure anywhere is my kind of place,” she breathes, stirring her straw timidly.

“What do you mean?” The green eyes are watching her kindly again, and Even summons all her courage as she struggles to explain.

“I mean, I don’t feel I _fit in_ anywhere. I’m an outsider everywhere I go.”

Isak laughs and leans closer; she can feel his body heat radiating off him.

“Doesn’t everyone feel like that, though? Just some of us are better faking it than others.”

Even manages a small sip and an even smaller smile. “Maybe. But – I – I stick out more. _Come on_.” She faces him with desperate confidence. “You _know_ what I’m talking about.”

The plumber nods thoughtfully. “When I was a teenager, I felt out of place all the time. I was fake, through and through. I pretended to like what my friends liked, dated who they dated – it was a lonely time.”

“Yes,” whispers Even, resisting the urge to curl into his neck and nuzzle her face into his beard for comfort. “It feels lonely.”

“You’re not alone, really,” says Isak thoughtfully. “Not tonight, at least.”

Even’s heart beats faster. “What – what do you mean?”

The plumber drains his drink and motions her to do the same. “Get your coat. We’re leaving.”

***

“Mikkkie!” calls Even into the alleyway through the muffled, pounding music from the club adjacent. “Mikkkie! I’m – uh, I’m going, I’ve come to say goodnight!”

She scans the darkness, perplexed; she could swear she had seen her friend and the Briskeby boys slip out for a smoke earlier, but –

Then there is a giggle from the far end of the alley, and Even’s jaw absolutely drops.

In the shadows, Mikkkie can just be seen, working on one of the lads, crouched on her small haunches in front of him, her kitten heels tucked in underneath her pert bottom. She rocks back and forth with the surge of her movements, one delicate hand braced against the guy’s bare hip with her fingers splayed against his stomach, the other curled around his shaft and pumping it expertly into her mouth. As she turns her face briefly to the side, in the faint flash of streetlight Even can see her crimson lips sliding up and down, bobbing her head with firm but calculated pressure, the bulge of the man’s cock appearing and disappearing against her cheek.

“Wow,” murmurs the plumber, interested, from behind her. “Your friend really knows how to put on a show.”

Even gulps. She can’t drag her eyes away from the thick length of dark cock that Mikkkie is so confidently swallowing, in and out, up and down, interspersed with periods of deepthroated grinding that makes her throat bulge accompanied by a symphony of muffled gags before she pulls off for breath, strings of saliva hanging silver between her lips and the man’s engorged glans. He lurches forward momentarily into the streetlight and Even recognises Adam. He looks like he’s ready to come already; pop-eyed, gazing foggily at her and nothing at the same time, sweat beaded on his forehead as he rests her hand on her silky hair. But Mikkkie is steadfastly in control, skilfully twisting her hand down to squeeze back his excitement as she traces the nub of his cock around her mouth, laughing up at him like a kitten at her man’s stifled noises.

“We should go,” whispers Even as soon as she can form words – it feels like a huge intrusion on her best friend – she’s often seen Mikkkie drunk and kissing, but not _like this_. But even as she turns, Isak slips an arm around her waist and draws her to him. Even jumps slightly and tries to move away, but the bicep holds her firm.

“Keep watching,” murmurs the plumber, breath hot against her ear. “We wouldn’t want to miss the best bit.”

Even’s heart beats faster at the prickle of his beard against her neck and the warm scent of him enveloping her, his firm chest pressed against her back as she unwillingly turns to face Mikkkie’s bobbing head.

Isak continues muttering into her ear, the brush of his lips making her head swim. “She’s a professional, your friend. Got that bloke wrapped round her little finger, as you might say.”

Mikkkie is tonguing prettily over the man’s slit, red tongue lapping like a cat as she changes up the stroke, sucking fast and skilfully. Adam stands up from the wall, legs straddled, both hands clasped on the back of her sleek head as he puffs and contorts. Even feels a hot hard pulse beating in her groin, and behind her she can feel the plumber grunt and shift, leaning against her, rubbing his tented jeans up and down against her buttock, making her moan and push back against him, her knees weak, her neck wet from his stifled breaths –

“Wait here.” The plumber squeezes her bottom and leaves her abruptly, shaky and bewildered, and crosses towards the rutting couple with quick, decisive steps. Even watches as he kneels down behind Mikkkie, calmly unbuckling his belt and pulling his jeans down over his ass. He puts two firm hands on Mikkkie’s hips and angles her to his convenience, sliding her dress up over her back and twitching down her knickers. The girl squeals faintly as he noses the head of his cock between her slim buttocks, hanging onto Adam’s hips and sucking as if her life depended on it as Isak moves slowly forward. He begins to pump, fast and no-nonsense, gripping her hips and resting the other on her back as he watches himself sink into her hard and repeatedly.

Even’s hand is snaking into her jeans to touch herself, transfixed by the sight of them both busy on Mikkkie, wishing it was _her _that the two men were so intent on, imagining that it was her on her knees between them, beautiful, desirable, fuckable, feminine –

“Even? Where are you?” Isak has emerged from the club and is standing on the steps, looking up and down the street. As he catches sight of her in the alleyway, he gazes at her puzzled. “I didn’t know where you went!”

Even jumps and bites her bottom lip, turning to face him, red blood flaming in her cheeks. Isak takes a step forward. “Are you okay?”

Behind her Even hears a stifled curse and Mikkkie’s giggle as she and Adam wriggle further back into the shadows _– fuck, they’re watching – no, don’t stop – I’m close –_

“I just think – I think I want to go home,” she stammers awkwardly. “I’m – I’m a bit tired.”

“Then I’ll walk you.” The eyes hold her again and Even can’t think of _anything_, can’t think of any words that will cover what she wants to do.

“I’ll – I think I’ll just get a cab.” She wants to run and hide, hide from his presence, curl up in her own bed and blot out the entire world, this world that she isn’t a part of, this world of guys and girls and suits and dresses and all the rest of it.

Isak steps forward until he’s standing right next to her.

“No time for my goodnight kiss?”

He’s getting closer and closer, his hands are firm but guiding on her hips, and despite herself she struggles in brief panic – _he’s so close, so close_ – but he chuckles quietly, stroking one finger down her face at her distress, a calm low sound that soothes her like a nervous mare as he angles her face towards him.

Even feels as if she’s going to faint – there’s nowhere to hide, there’s nothing but her and him and the motes of streetlight dust drifting between them – and then his mouth is settling over hers, warm and practiced and easy, making her lips shudder and move underneath his, involuntarily as the movement of the tide under the moon. She’s thinking of nothing, nothing but the sense of him against her, blotting out all the fear and the dysphoria and the self-hatred and the _not fitting_ and – 

Isak sets the pace of kissing, firm and slow, soft lips moving over hers, the scruff of his beard occasionally scraping against her in sharp contrast. Even loves it, loves the way he takes his time kissing all of her, exactly as he wants her, holding her slender neck in both his hands, fingers propping up her chin to angle her to his satisfaction, teasing insistently at her mouth until finally she opens up for him and his tongue explores hers.

She’s never kissed a guy before, not like _this_, not _this _way; she feels hot and light, slipping her arms around his neck and letting herself sink into him, enjoying the _rightness_ of it, the way she doesn’t have to _act_ with him, she just _is:_ there’s no need for the artifice of makeup or dresses or voice control, not with her body moving so naturally, so effortlessly in his arms. He’s slightly smaller than her, but broader and stronger, and as his hands drop down to encircle her bottom she nestles against him with something approaching a sigh of relief at how well they _fit_ –

Isak doesn’t let her draw away until he’s plumbed every inch of her mouth with his tongue, leaving her a dizzy, quivering wreck as she gasps and pushes against him and offers herself shamelessly up for more. When he finally releases her, a look of calm satisfaction on his face, she finds that her old shyness has been replaced by a keen, sharp desire pricking inside her, like the blade of a newly-whetted knife, giving her confidence to look him in the eye.

“Did that really happen?” she whispers, touching her lips with her fingers.

Isak draws back and raises a quizzical eyebrow. “You’re not sure?”

“Sometimes I think I’m imagining things,” confesses Even. “I imagine a lot of things that don’t actually happen – well, never mind.”

The plumber grins. “You’re not imagining anything right now my girl. I’m taking you to bed.”

*** 

**BUCKLE UP FOR AN AVALANCHE OF SMUT IN THE LAST CHAPTER COMING SOON!!!**


	4. F**kboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak comes back to Even's after their date ...
> 
> See, I promised LOOOAAAADS of smut, so ...

Even’s anxiety is back in full force by the time the cab draws up at her flat and Isak pays the fare. Her knees are weak as they climb the step, the plumber’s hand guiding warm on her elbow, and as she fumbles with the keys and drops them, his palm runs idly over her back and cups her bottom when she bends to retrieve them.

“Do – do you want a drink?” she manages to stutter as she _eventually_ gets the door open. “Or, or – or a shower, or something?”

The plumber chuckles, nudging the door shut with his heel behind them. “Maybe afterwards.”

Even catches her breath as he takes her face in his hands and kisses her long and deep; she’s grateful for the fact she hasn’t yet managed to switch the light on, because the darkness is kind and welcoming and he can’t see the blood blazing across her cheeks, and maybe if she can just stay here in his arms like this, she won’t feel tense and awkward and exposed again, and –

“Come on,” mutters Isak indistinctly. “Let’s get somewhere more comfortable.”

He’s nuzzling at her neck, running his lips up and down the sensitive place just underneath her ear and part of her mind is screaming at her to run, and the other part is giddy with bliss and happiness and excitement – although with a blush she realises too late that it’s her moaning out loud, a long drawn-out keening that makes the plumber chuckle as he takes her hand.

“Come on, little one, I’ll give you what you need.”

_Little one_. Even’s never been called _little,_ never in her life; in her professional career she’s always been the grown-up one, the one in control, the one whose job it is to hold everything together, whether in the classroom, the staffroom or the meetings with the education minister. And in her private life her height alone has always meant people think that she’s the dom, even when she’s the one who really wants to be picked up, held, dominated –

“Little one?”

It isn’t a question, but a command.

As if in a dream, Even follows him.

Her bedroom seems like a foreign place as she switches on the bedside lamp and the large shadows leap up in sharp relief to the golden light. There’s the white slip that Mikkkie chose hanging over the door and by reflex she wants to grab it and cover herself up, but even as she grasps the silky material in her hands, the plumber steps forward and gently takes it off her.

“Don’t put anything on,” he murmurs, casually chucking the negligée into the corner of the room. “I want to see you naked.”

Even gulps and the panic rises up her throat, choking her. She doesn’t want him to _see_ her – her awkward, lean boy’s body with her big feet and hands, the prickle of stubble already emerging on her legs, her shamefully hard cock and her tense, plumped-up balls, her Adam’s apple and her flat chest –

“Are you sure you don’t want–“ she trails away; she isn’t sure what she means, but it’s something to do with hiding, of being someone else, someone more femme, because there’s no way he’ll like the person she is, and she isn’t brave enough to be_ seen, _not now_, not yet – _

“You don’t need any of that stuff,” Isak whispers hoarsely in her ear. “You’re gorgeous just the way you are.”

Even can’t remember her back hitting the mattress, but it must have happened, because she’s lying staring up at him as he kneels above her, gently stroking his fingers through her hair, cradling her head in his palms as if she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. She turns her head to the side, seeking his touch, and as she parts her lips his thumb slips gently into her mouth. Her eyelids flutter closed as she hums and sucks, feeling the ball of his thick finger stroke over her tongue and far into her mouth. He strokes deeper and deeper like a cave explorer feeling his way in the dark, firing up all her soft and sensitive places so that in a matter of minutes she’s moaning and twisting beneath him, sucking and lapping hard on his thumb, so hot and needy that it feels that she could explode just from this alone.

“Uh,” grunts the plumber finally, his eyes dark and faraway. “Let’s get you out of this stuff.”

This is the moment where Even should resist, shake her head and cradle herself protectively, let the waves of self-hatred and dysphoria come down and smother her as they always do; but instead under his gentle, expectant command, she finds herself as if in a spell, glued to the mattress, heavy and drunk with desire, staring up at him as he swings one thigh around to straddle her, skilled fingers plucking at the buttons of her shirt.

As he removes her clothes with calm efficiency, he reaches the camisole that she’s worn in place of a bra, and her heart begins to pound anew, perhaps she should keep covered after all, preserve the mystique, maybe he won’t want –

“Ssshhh, sh, sh, I want to see you,” Isak murmurs comfortingly, drawing the silk up and over her chest, and somehow his unabashed admiration as his eyes roam over her pale skin keeps the bad thoughts away, makes her lie open and yielding, like a skinned fruit, raw and shrinking and sensitive, as the last of her layers are gradually peeled away and the warm heat of his body hits her flesh.

He twitches his shirt over his head with one hand and chucks it away carelessly, and as he hunkers down to take her nipple in his eager mouth, she lets out a stifled gasp at the first wet, warm touch of his lips around her. Her nerve-endings flame into sharp pricking excitement as she grabs at his curly head, feeling the soft hair of his chest scratch against her belly as he settles between her thighs.

“Oh my God, that’s – that’s – “

She can’t marshall her words, he’s tonguing and licking her nipples into erect peaks, intermittently blowing gently over them with his warm breath so that she cries out with the joy and the intimacy of it, the bliss of discovery and the driving excitement of _more, more more. _Involuntarily her fingers slide down to grip onto his shoulders, writhing and pushing herself up against him demandingly, feeling him suction around her nipple and suck hard, sending pops of excitement down her spine to throb in her groin.

Isak works her nipples until she’s dizzy, punch-drunk with sensation and need, senseless streams of words and babble spilling from her lips that make him chuckle, despite her painfully hauling at his curly hair. Her thighs rise up and grind against his hips, her thirsty cock rutting against the teasing movements of his pelvis until finally she pushes at him, desperately.

“I need to – I can – I’m ready – “

But the plumber takes his time, kneeling between her spread thighs, firm hands running up and down her legs, gently teasing at the button of her jeans until in frustration she pulls open the clasp herself and raises up her hips for him.

“Do it, _please_ – “

“Someone’s eager,” grins Isak as he peels her jeans over her bottom and throws them away, bending her long limbs up and over his shoulders to kiss between her knees.

He nuzzles his way up the inside of her thighs, biting and sucking gently at the tender skin there until Even is a keening, moaning mess, propped helplessly against the bedstead. There’s a wet patch on the front of her knickers where she’s tucked herself away, and, as his lips reach the top of her thighs and his hot breath tingles around her groin, despite herself she flinches. The dysphoria opens in her brain like a demon peering slyly through a crack, _maybe this is too much, maybe he won’t want this, maybe he’s one of those guys who doesn’t want –_

“Relax,” murmurs Isak, sensing her sudden change in mood. He kneels up and indicates his bulging jeans with a teasing grin. “Come here and play with me, little one.”

His hand strokes the back of her head as she sits up and fumbles with his studs, grateful for the change in focus, and as she draws his jeans down over his hips a strange peace comes over her; it’s exactly as she had imagined it, thick length lying curled in his underwear, weighted down and plump and ready.

She rests her forehead on his wiry stomach, closes her eyes and nuzzles at the outline of it lying heavy in his boxers, rubbing her cheek against it like a cat scenting, enjoying being close to a man without pressure, feeling his hand resting warm on the back of her neck while the other one combs gently through her hair. After a while, she’s brave enough to tug down his boxers so the fat nub emerges over his waistband and she teases at it with her tongue, lapping at the salty skin, hearing with pleasure the stifled cursing from above.

With a surge of confidence she pulls his boxers the rest of the way down. His cock swings up against her cheek, and with a toss of her head, Even catches it on her tongue, staring up at him, copying Mikkkie’s moves with Adam, letting it play sloppily over her wet lips and humming gently around the tip until the plumber’s face screws up in desire.

“Let’s go, little one, come on.” He angles her mouth with his hands just as he had with the kiss, turning her and opening her up as he gently slips into her mouth, filling her up and lighting up all her buttons with one firm, smooth movement.

Even closes her eyes and sucks, enraptured, enjoying the feeling of the velvety sleeve of flesh over the wiry muscle underneath, moving her hand up and down the base of his cock, her other hand slipping dreamily into her knickers to touch herself. She’s never done this before, not to a real man of flesh and blood, but it’s everything she thought it would be; intense and primal and intimate. She’s aware of him gasping and thrusting against her, thumb braced against her cheek, and for a moment she loses track of everything; for the first time in her life she’s happy, deliriously happy of just how _right_ this feels.

She’d be content to do this all night, for as long as he can last, but the plumber is plainly approaching a peak, and gently he pops open her lips with his thumb and pulls out, despite her protests.

“On all fours, little one,” he mutters firmly, and as she complies, kneels up behind her and pulls down her knickers.

As the damp silk falls down around her knees, Even’s engorged cock swings up and against her thigh and for a moment she tenses. She’s always felt both desire and shame about her dick – she can’t imagine ever being without it, while also wishing that things were different – and for a moment she wonders if this is the minute it all comes crashing down, should she have kept her underwear on …

But Isak merely slips his hand between her legs, takes her in his palm and squeezes firmly, sending a synaptic shock coursing through her as he handles her expertly, just the way she likes it, _exactly _as she likes it, massaging her up and down almost to the peak of sensitivity as she flounders and cries out beneath him.

“That’s right,” mutters the plumber as he leans forward and licks the long groove of her back, down to her bottom. “Let me hear you scream.”

Even’s mouth opens in an obedient howl as his tongue slips down between her buttocks and raises her back up like a cat begging to be petted. Isak laughs in satisfaction, breathing hotly all around her cleft as she whimpers and flinches at his touch – it’s too much, it’s too intimate, it’s too –

“Stay right there,” he grunts hoarsely as he holds her hips in position with his other hand, mouthing over her until she’s a molten mess under his touch. He plays with her expertly as his tongue probes her bottom, making her hot and wet and sticky, until her knees are weak and she’s shuddering with unplumbed desire. She’s never felt so well handled, so surely controlled, so ripe and ready, so wanton, so feminine – 

“Fuck me, please,” she whispers into the pillow, her shame overridden by need. “_Please_ – “

Isak leans over and fishes for his jeans.

“Stay like that,” he mutters hoarsely. “You look incredible.”

Braced on her elbows, Even risks a quick glance over her shoulder. There’s a professional aspect to the way he twitches the condom out of the packet and rolls it on with a quick movement that makes her stomach pulse – _he’s definitely a fuckboy, he’s used to doing this, how many Evens has he done it to this week_ – but she forces her mind off _that_ thought with difficulty, and concentrates instead on the capable way he wraps up and pops the cap off the lube, thumbing the gel in his palms until it warms up.

“Just – I haven’t – it’s a bit new for me,” she whispers, and Isak leans over, tilts her face up towards him and kisses her.

“Don’t worry, little one. I’m going to take care of you.”

He pats her bottom soothingly as he braces his cock, tracing the firmed-up tip around her hole, pressing forward then pulling back until she’s crying out loud in half pleasure, half fear. It’s uncomfortable and arousing in equal measure; she’s never taken a man before, though she’s imagined this plenty with her fingers and a small vibrator that she sometimes experiments with, but _this_ is different, it’s a real cock, thick and veined and bulging, whose owner plainly knows how to use it and exactly where it needs to go –

“Just – relax,” grunts the plumber as he shuffles forward on his knees, stroking her haunches soothingly like a tamed horse. “Breathe out, little one, you’re doing so well – “

At his gentle encouragement, Even drops her head on the back of her hands and breathes out; she feels him tense his hips as he meets her resistance, before suddenly he’s hitching himself up and moving forward, gentle but determined, opening her fully up so that she cries aloud with pure sensation.

She’s never felt so fully _owned_ before, so raw and moist and soft, aware of nothing but his cock hard inside her like a large stone buried deep in a sun-softened fruit. She can feel him moan in response as he bottoms out, the sharp prickle of his hair against her buttocks as they finally connect, holding her tightly by her hips as he stills and waits for her to adjust.

“Yes,” she groans finally, struggling for breath. “F – fuck me –“

He starts to move inside her with firm, controlled movements, guiding his length to the exact depth he wants in her, rocking his hips exactly to his liking to heighten his pleasure. Hanging onto the bedstead, her vision black and her breath coming in huge gulps, Even feels her own desire sharpen according to his mounting excitement, her softness melting against his hardness as his tempo increases. It’s as if she’s a balloon being pumped up hard with every thrust; her brain feels empty and airy as she swims blissfully into subspace, feeling used and submissive and grateful, conscious only of how well they _fit_ – 

“Lie down,” Isak is slapping her bottom to get her attention, and dizzily she sags down on her side, the plumber crouched over to fuck her sideways, grunting with pleasure as he alternately raises her leg over his shoulder to bury himself deeper, or hold her thighs together to increase her tightness. When the position allows, he plays with her teasingly, thumb and forefinger around the head of her cock in short sharp tugs in time with his thrusts that make her whine as she’s nudged little by little towards delirium.

Even must look a state but she doesn’t care; she’s wet with sweat where she’s being ground remorselessly against the bedclothes and her make-up is mussed up and half-rubbed off. Her own cock is twitching and tensing with every accelerating thrust of the plumber; only few more strokes needed, a few more and she’ll be there –

“Fuck, I’m close. On your back.” Isak swings her leg up and around, heaving himself forward so he’s hunched between her legs and she’s gazing up at him breathlessly. He takes her hand and leads it to her cock.

“Play with yourself, little one, you’re going to come for me now.”

Obediently, Even runs her fingers up and down, keeping pace with his thrusts, watching his curly head outlined in the lamplight above her as he moves into the final straits. His eyes are glassy and muffled as he stares down at her, grunts knocked from him with every contact of their bodies, and as he rears up on both braced arms, teeth bared and hips working hard, Even feels herself start to slip and come apart around him.

“Uh, I can’t wait, I’m – “ She pulls her knees up, balls twitching and pulsing, and the next moment pumps all over her stomach, her bottom clenching and spasming around his deeply-buried dick as she throws her head back with a cry.

“Fuck yes,” groans Isak as she spatters all over both of them, leaving long pipes of white streaked up his chest and along her stomach. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

Even can’t respond, can’t think of anything but the hard, hot pulsing pleasure that ripples between her legs and up her shaft, as the last of her sperm bubbles across her chest until her cock lies exhausted across her belly. She’s conscious of Isak gently pulling out and massaging her spunk into her tender nipples, and as he kneels up, she sees that his dick is still hard and full as it bounces against his thigh.

“Oh God, you didn’t …? I’m so sorry,” she stammers, but Isak just smiles, twitching the condom off and flicking it onto the floor.

“You’re so amazing,” he mutters, hand moving up and down his cock as he gazes at her, spent and sweaty below him. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“Please,” whispers Even, clutching at him. “I want to make you come too.”

The plumber grins as he crawls over her face and straddles her. “Open up for me, little one.”

He fucks her mouth, firm and practiced, with every thrust squeezing a moan from her as she squeezes at her own spent and sensitive cock, eyes closed, teasing out the last throbs of excitement to try to keep pace with him. She can feel him bucking above her and his toes stiffening as he jerks and gasps, until suddenly her mouth floods with bitter salt as he groans aloud.

She gulps him down, aware of him moving between her lips with a few last sated thrusts, working the last of his pleasure out against her tongue before he keels over and flops, spent, beside her.

They lie still for a moment, breathing hard like swimmers just risen to the surface. Even feels suddenly shy, as if she’s been rubbed raw, but at the same time, content and exhilarated, as if she simultaneously wants to laugh, sing and burst into tears.

“Good?” Isak raises an eyebrow as he turns to look at her flustered face. “How was my – uh, client service?”

Even giggles and buries her face in his shoulder; for some reason she finds this unreasonably funny.

“Well, I’d call that customer satisfaction,” she manages to get out.

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but there don’t seem any words that are big enough to encompass everything she’s feeling right now, the _thank you_, and the _now everything makes sense_ and _finally I feel that I fit,_ but the plumber seems to understand.

“I like it when you smile,” mutters Isak, winding an arm around her and pulling her to him. “You’re beautiful when you laugh.”

Even lies against his curly chest as Isak’s chuckle drifts off into deep breaths and soft snores. She feels exhausted, sore and satisfied, but her heart is churning so much she can’t sleep. She feels reborn, reimagined, revitalised; waves of contentment bearing her up like a newly-born Venus from the sea. She lies blissfully on Isak’s chest, her eyes open, staring at nothing, a huge smile stretched over her pretty lips. 

She feels alive – and feminine – and free.

***

**SO!!!! Well, um ... let me know what you thought!!! **

**I hope you enjoyed reading this far, and thank you for all your lovely comments!!!**


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